


Breathless

by Sukuangtou



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Brotherly Angst, Gen, Hurt Loki, Hurt/Comfort, Loki - Freeform, Loki Angst, Loki Feels, Sick Loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-06
Updated: 2013-10-10
Packaged: 2017-12-28 15:14:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/993408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sukuangtou/pseuds/Sukuangtou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While charging their steeds away from a grotesque beast that follows, the two riders separate and one finds himself in great danger. Three-shot. Set before 'Thor'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Thundering hooves thumped violently against the solid ground of the forest, slamming sprung up blades of grass against the dirt. Whinnies and snorts filled the air, the two horses rasping heavily for breath as their reins pulled them this way and that through the tangled trees and twined roots. Fat blobs of rain splattered over their dappled coats, splashes stinging their eyes as the wind zoomed past them at lightning speed. Manes flying, ears back, they stampeded over brooks, fallen logs and low tree branches, snapping them in their wild panic. Mud oozed and squelched beneath them, the winding trail of scattered prints zigzagging far behind them like a never-ending viper. One gained speed, pulling out in front as the pathway narrowed, its caramel coat, cocoa mane and tail all darkened with grubby puddle water skimming up its legs and belly. The second, who also had its chestnut coat splodged with grime, was beginning to weary, its ears falling down until they were almost hidden behind the deep black mane. Soon, the other was getting further and further away until it and its rider became a distant speck. A sudden sharp pull on the reins brought the stallion to his right, steering it off the path and down onto an animal track resembling more of a river bed than walkway. 

Metres behind, the colossal rumble of humongous paw-like hands meeting earth could be heard, the owner booming a screeching roar and, even from where they were, the sounds of its gasping, monstrous breaths could clearly be caught through the torrential rain. Speeding along, horse and rider scampered between the bushes and bark, the rider trying to scatter their scent in the water-soaked ground and lose their tracks in the gloop the best he could. Occasionally, much to the horror of his steed, he would double back, mushing up their tracks even more and taking a different route around a boulder or clump of trees. Wild, animalistic terror could be seen in the chocolate-brown eyes of his horse, almost reflecting on the terror he was feeling inside and struggling to control. No, that wouldn’t help them at all; he needed a level head, to think logically. 

Ahead, the trees were beginning to thin out, falling away until horse and rider were galloping over tall grassland, heading straight for the wooden river dam, barley able to hold the new increase of water. Wind whipped viciously at their faces, spraying rain, insects and dirt at their bodies. Glancing behind, the rider spotted the collapsing trees snapping by the sheer power of the beast, relentless in its chase after its prey. Swallowing, he urged his steed onwards, heading for the creaking dam hovering over the edge of the cliff that was once a waterfall. Jagged rocks littered the stomach-churning drop, all glistening in the downpour like sharpened knives. Out of the corner of his eye, the rider spotted his companion, now halted over the rickety bridge further down the valley, watching on with a look of panic plastered over their soggy features. 

Screaming, the horses legs clamped, its muscles crying out of a break. Tongue rolling out of its mouth the steed skidded to a stop, huge gasps of air shaking its entire body to the core. The rider, however, kicked him back into a trot, then to a struggling gallop, all the time leaning over and stroking long, soothing strokes along its neck and head, whispering encouraging words.  
“Come on, keep going, you can do it.”  
Hurtling out of the trees at a super speed, the beast raised its ugly, mangled head, saliva dripping in great splodges from its fanged jaws which snapped at the spray of rain beating its body. Its nose, scarred with claw marks and blood, sniffed at the air, sending spirals of white pools into the rain. Bruised purple orbs scanned the area, one eye half closed due to two long fang marks scratching over the surface, whitening whatever part of the eye it touched causing the creature to become more war-beaten and sinister in its appearance. Rising up onto its hind ‘feet’ until it was almost the same height as one of the Asgardian pillars, it roared a full-belly howl, showing rows of rotten yellow teeth. The sudden noise spurted the horse into a sprint at full speed, charging towards the dam and taking a running leap at the wood. More slippery than expected, the horse struggled to keep afoot, rolling onto its side and sliding dangerously close to the edge, the wind zooming at them in all directions, disorientating the stallion further. The rider cried out in pain, his leg falling under the horse, pinning him under bone crushing weight. Smacking of the beast sprinting after them send a crazed, blind panic through the steed, the animal springing to its feet once again, releasing the rider and letting him back onto its back. 

But their time was up as the creature climbed onto the dam, the wood visibly bending under its huge bulk. Sharply curled claws scraped at the bark below, leaving giant scratches in its wake. The rank stink of its breath like warm, disgusting meat wafted through the rain, hitting them with fall force. Stepping backwards, the stallion made to bolt, but with an ear-splitting ‘crack’ a deep, spiked fracture split the wood below, spanning from the creature all the way underneath them and to the other side of the dam, weakening the wood near the ground until the full force of the overflowing water overpowered it. Creaking as it finally gave up, the wood snapped in two, the waters bursting through like a stampeding herd of buffalo in raging torrents, cutting off their only exit. 

Shouting, his companion yelled his horse into a sprint, disappearing from the bridge into the tree line in a flash of caramel. The rider swallowed, taking in a deep, shuddering breath as he watched the beast slowly, almost teasingly approach them. Each step shook the foundations of the dam, shaking them as if an earthquake was taking place. Eyeing the now half-split dam below their feet, the rider leant down carefully and soothingly began to stroke his steed’s mane. Another footstep, another shake shook them.  
He knew it was going to happen before it did.

Snapping his eyes shut, the rider waited calmly. Thud, creak. Thud, creak. Thud…Snap. Feeling his body jerk, the rider gripped the reins tightly in his grasp as he, his steed and the creature tilted sideways and, with a final gush of water spurting over the top of the dam, toppled over the dizzy edge. Held back water screamed over the ridge, pounding his body like a punching bag until him and his stallion finally parted in mid-air, the liquid flying him over the rocks and boulders as it hurtled him into the forming pool at the very pit of the waterfall. Sinking underwater from the force of being dropped, it took him a moment to realise what was happening. Planks of broken wood jabbed into the pool around him like a thousand needles all at once, one whizzing past his body so fast he hadn’t time to react and the splinters edge sliced into him all the way from his shoulder to his elbow. Blood leaked out, creating oil paintings within the water, swirling and twisting gracefully. Feeling the urge to breathe pound against his chest, he looked upwards and began to swim, doing the best he could with his injured arm, his heart beating a mile a minute.

Roaring filled the air, the power of the falling water pushing him back under, filling his nose as he struggled to resurface. He became vaguely aware of the sounds of his horse being swept into the ferocious river he too was quickly being pulled into, his arms desperately trying to pull himself up and grab something. One of the knife-sharp rocks scratched open his palm but instead of letting go he clung on for dear life, using it as a lever to tug his head out into the painfully cold air which stung his skin. Rasping, he frantically searched to try to find something better to hold as the waters current grew stronger, fiercer, dragging his legs from under him so he was only staying afloat by his slippery grip on the rock. Glancing over his shoulder, he spied the head of his horse disappearing over the rapids, its legs scrambling everywhere to keep it upright. But where was the creature? Turning back his forest orbs skimmed over the water, confusion falling over his features.  
He spotted it three seconds too late.

Rising from the torrents only feet from him, the beast growled, blood streaming down its body as it leaned over him and strikes with all the might of charging rhino; fangs, claws and the sheer size of it dragging the helpless rider deep underwater, all air being knocked from him body. His shoulder stings as teeth break the skin, his head rings as he’s bashed against rock after rock, and legs tire from kicking. The last sounds he hears before he fades out are the rumbled of the creature and one, frantic, petrified shout from the top of the waterfall.

“LOKI!”


	2. Chapter 2

Splatters of rain knots his limp hair which hangs lifelessly around his ashen face; downcast eyes watching the constant flow of water as it leaps past him over the slippery smooth boulders, stones and rocks. His steed, exhausted from what seemed to have been a never-ending canter, stood still, head down facing the ground as the rain beat into its body numbingly. Roars of the waterfall echoed off the steep valley walls, the air moist, catching the coldness setting in. With his head bowed, drops of condensation dripped of his nose, splatting onto his shivering hand that held the reins in a shaky grasp. Snorting, the horse shook his head, flinging its dark mane from side to side, releasing trapped tears of moisture before stamping its hoof in impatience. Swallowing away the sickly lump forming the back of his throat, he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, turning his steed and encouraging it into a slow trot back towards the distant, usually welcoming sight of Asgard.

How could he have been so careless, so stupid? Both he and his brother knew the dangers of the animals in the forest, yet he had gone charging into the cave without a second thought, ignoring his brother’s cautions and wise advice to leave the creature be in its slumber and head back to camp before the rain hit. But he’d been arrogant, pathetically determined to slay the beast so he could boast and brag at the next drinking session he held. He had purposely thrown the heavy metal of his sword into the rocks, slamming dust and dirt everywhere and shouting, much to the horror of Loki. Now look what had happened. 

Rising over the hills like an impressive mountain from a Midgardian tale, the gold palaces and towers all remained somewhat mysterious in the thickness of the fog, their height hidden from view with only their highly decorated bases on show, trickles of water sliding off them. The clip-clop of the stallion’s shoes was the only sound heard in the eerie quietness of the courtyard, each step like a clanging bell against the cobble flooring. Lifting the reins to bring the steed to a stop, he slid out of the uncomfortably wet saddle, brushing his soaked hair from his face before leading the horse over to the stables. A boy, aged about thirteen, came scuttling over once the prince was spotted, taking the exhausted steed from him and leading it away to be cared for. Palace servants approached him, bowing and asking if he needed anything. No one asked where Loki was.  
“Where are my mother and father?” He asks, eyeing the impressively decorated door above the tall marble steps and wanting nothing more to get into the warm dry.  
“The king is in the throne room, Sir, and the queen is approaching us as we speak.” A young girl bowed, her copper hair beginning to turn frizzy in the dampness. Nodding, he begins to climb the steep steps, a guard pulling open the door to let him inside.  
Thor could not explain the emotions slapped across his parent’s faces one they knew of the horror their son had suffered, however deep, painful disappointment was evident in their voices, and the tones they used to speak were downcast, scared and anxious. His mother, who had been all smiles at his return now sat beside her husband, silent tears trickling down her delicate features and dripping onto the silks she wore. Her husband sat motionless, expressionless, his single eye distant, as if in deep thought. He ignored when Thor approached to hug his mother, taking her slim frame into his muscular chest and holding her close. Only when he asked to be excused did he speak.  
“Thor,” He said calmly, his voice controlled, “I do not need to explain the destruction your actions have caused, but I hope you have learnt from this and will continue to learn your actions affect others.”  
“Yes, father, I have,” He bows, staying there for a second before leaving the room, heading towards the wash rooms.

….

Hot, burning pain scraped into the walls of his throat as he sprung through the surface of the water, hands flailing wildly as his mind races like a whirlwind. Freezing air smacks into his sopping wet skin, sending spurts of sharp numbness throughout his body, cramping his muscles tightly within his legs. Blood stains the river around him, leaking from the horrifically deep wounds buried around his left shoulder and along his arm, throbbing at each movement while something warm trickles down from his head to the base of his neck. Confusion hits him as his scattered memories whizz and spin in huge dizzy circles against his skull, a headache pounding fiercely within his temples like a boxer. Wide emerald orbs gaze around him as the current continues to whisk him along, though much calmer than before meaning he can keep his head above the water without much resistance. Racking coughs shake and shiver his chest as he tries to clear his lungs, his stomach clenching painfully beneath his heavy, sodden clothes.  
Looming trees stand guard either side of the river, like proud solders protecting the forest, their twined branches overhead letting in little light while their trunks created a thick, sturdy barrier. Gloopy muddy water carries him along, broken twigs and fallen dead leaves floating by his head as he began to gradually move himself nearer to the slippery mud bank. Flaming pain zooms up his arm, stinging the open wounds across his shoulder and causing his body to jerk suddenly, yelping in agony. His hand shoots over the area, grasping at the once green tunic which had now taken a horrific shade of crimson, in patches almost petrifying black. Pulling away, his hand glistens with the rose red liquid and he quickly has to plunge it back into the waters to stop himself throwing up. 

Gritting his teeth in a mix of frustration, determination and pain he begins to slowly move again, this time only using his good arm to haul himself over to the bank. Slick gloop, algae and jagged flood debris build up a wall of monstrous height, like a threatening cliff that no one dares climb. It towers over him, sending flashes of terrifying memories across his brain while he desperately tries to keep his cool, biting back tears pricking at his forest orbs. Swallowing deeply before taking a deep breath, he plunges his hand into the ooze, feeling it slide sickly through his fingers and wriggle under his broken nails while creating gross sucking sounds. Doing his best to kick upwards with his weakening legs, he does the same with the other hand, screaming out as the cuts widen with the movement and his muscles spasm. He hangs here for a moment, shivering from the dropping temperatures and pain, his exhausted mind noting that the skin under his sleeve is deathly pallid.  
Using all the energy he can muster he moves again, successfully pulling his body free of the water while his hands grab onto whatever they can on the top of the mound. So close. So, so close. Crying out with the effort, he spring up his legs, using the lift to bring his battered body onto the top of the mount, the force of the jump causing him to topple over the edge, tumbling and sliding down the other side before thundering into the ground, groaning in the back of his throat. He laid there for a moment, letting the stinging, throbbing, stomach-churning pain dull to a freezing numbness before trying to move again. 

Lifting his head he realised that it’s almost as wet this side of the ‘wall’ as it was the other side, ice-cold puddles covering the floor in a reflecting blanket, bugs skimming over the surface while frogs jump about merrily. A swamp. Lovely. Light fading and the temperature falling he decides to just ignore the world around him, pushing himself up onto his knees and, too exhausted to walk, he crawls pathetically like an animal over to the nearest tree and slumps against an upturned root, curling into himself and letting his mind fall into the warm blackness.  
….  
Morning was deceptively beautiful, with birds chirping happily and bugs buzzing away in the bushes. Deer nibbled at lush springs of grass, their ears flicking back and forth as their young jumped and leaped about, playing in the sunshine. Above, not a cloud could be seen with only a family of buzzards filling the air with their swoops, dives and cries. A light breeze wafted through the valley, tickling Thor’s face as he lead a group of Odin’s men downstream, sending groups of them apart if the river split. They rode in silence, with only the occasional whispers between the men breaking the uncomfortable quietness. If they tried to speak with the prince, they were met with a cold shoulder and empty reply. Thor ignored any comments about him, they weren’t important; right now he needed all his concentration on finding his baby brother. 

Clicking his tongue he urged his horse, fully rested from the previous day’s sprint, into a trot, he lead it down the beaten animal tracks, worn with hoof and paw prints. Drops of rainwater splashed from the tree’s leaves, creating little falling gems in mid-air before being shattered on the ground all around him, occasionally hitting him on the shoulder or head. Sighing, he carried on, keeping his eyes on the water as well as the forest, in case Loki had somehow managed to get away.  
“Prince Thor!” Turning, one of the men galloped his horse past, leading it to a clump of bushes. Following with his brows knitted together, he leaned over to see what the fuss was about. Collapsed on the ground in a tangle of limbs, Loki’s steed breathed heavily, tongue drooped out of its mouth and eyes rolling upwards to glance at the people who had disturbed its rest. Swallowing the lump forming in the back of his throat, Thor instructed the man to take the animal back to Asgard and have the stable hands care for it before leading the rest of the men onwards. 

“Sir, wouldn't it be an idea to have some of the men search on the other side of the bank? In case he climbed out of the water on that side?” One of the budding new recruits recently joined piped up, nervousness evident in his face at talking to a royal heir. Regarding the young man for a moment, Thor chewed it over before nodding.  
“Sure, you and the others go back and check the other side; I’ll carry on this side.”  
“S-sir, I didn’t mean-“  
“Just do as you’re instructed.” He snapped, beginning to lose patience.  
“Yes sir,” Falling back to the other men, they all turned their horses and took off back the way they came, Thor listening to their hoof beats until they were far off in the distance. Shaking his head, he carried on, the world around him beginning to grow darker, the trees taller. Snorting, his horse halted, biting down on the bit in its mouth as a gloopy swampland stretched out before them. Patting the stallions head and rubbing its ears, Thor encouraged it on, keeping to a slow walk as they navigated through the gloopy mud. Vines thick with moss hung low overhead, Thor often having to duck to avoid being strangled or caught in their long fingers.  
Mosquitoes whizzed past his ears, biting at his neck, face and other exposed skin. They attacked his horse too, distressing the animal who flicked its cocoa tail in annoyance, ears flat against its neck. Keeping close to the river’s side, Thor noticed the deposit on the edge of the river growing higher, thicker, creating a sticky mess of gunk, the smell of rotting vegetation filling the air. Closing his eyes a second to clear his head of the stink, he pressed onwards, thankful that his men could not see his unsightly display of disgust.

Hours dragged by, the water in the river becoming murkier and slower by the second until it could hardly be seen moving while Thor’s mood became less and less hopeful of finding his brother alive. Maybe it was time to give up and head back to the palace. Pulling the reins to stop the horse, Thor nibbled on his lips, his powder-blue orbs scanning the area; frogs, insects, mud, but no prince of Asgard. Breathing out a long breath, he clicked his tongue and turned the steed, but the horse had hardly taken a step when it was abruptly halted again, the rider sliding out of the saddle in one smooth movement. Walking back a step or two, Thor knelt, his eyes skimming over the mud. Large scrape marks dug into the gloop, along with scratches, as if something had fallen down the mud. Standing, Thor gazed around the area again, his eyes searching for anything unnatural, man-made.  
His breath caught the back of his throat.

Only just noticeable above the water smothering the ground, a pair of feet poked out from behind a tree, the battered boots caked in mud and dirt. Racing through the thick, saturated ground Thor fell to his knees in a heavy ‘thud, water splashing up onto him and tears springing to his eyes.  
“Loki,” His voice was hardly a whisper, as shaking hands reached out to gently hold the grotesque, mangled shoulder of his brother, giving it a small shake in hope to wake his unconscious sibling, “Loki, wake up…” Loki’s head, which had been half in the water, rolled limply, showing no sign of life. Afraid that Loki might be breathing in the filthy water, Thor scooped him up in his arms, feeling the still dripping wet clothes covering the shivering boy and the chill settled over his ivory skin. Crimson oozed through the painfully thin tunic in thick bursts from his shoulder which held five giant teeth punctures, all the way down to his arm which bore a deep gash. Tangled black hair hid a pool of dried blood which stained onto the red under-tunic Thor wore.  
“Loki,” Thor tries again, this time trying to make his voice sterner, “Loki, look at me,” But Loki ignores, his eyes remaining shut while his scarily blue lips part slightly as Thor sits him up against his chest, lifting him into his arms. Never before had his little brother felt so weak, so tiny. He was still just a boy, damn it, he should not have dragged him out for a stupid trip like this.  
Keeping an iron grip around Loki’s fragile body, Thor canters his steed back towards Asgard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked part two! The last part will be up shortly. 
> 
> Sorry for any spelling errors.
> 
> I don’t own ‘Thor’


	3. Chapter 3

Blazing heat danced violently within the fireplace in the middle of the wall, flames leaping, twisting and twirling while wood crack and spat beneath their weight. Long, looming shadows sneaked across the floor and furniture, withering and waving like temple dancers while a number of glass bottles on the hard oak desk glistened brightly, their liquid contense sparking. Carefully carved snakes slid up the legs of the bed, joining ivory on the footboard, winding around the highly detailed leaves like flowing streams of hexagon patterns. Forked tongues tasted the air as the heads of the vipers met in the middle; heads raised at one another while slitted orbs gazed cautiously. For one, the bottom set of teeth rested over the top lip, giving the animal less intelligent look while the other had its fangs over its bottom lip creating a sly, evil impression. Flung across the bed animal pelts, furs and blankets scattered the mattress with browns, greens and whites, almost completely burying the fragile body resting underneath.  
Shivering hands rested under the quilts, the skin still ashes and chalky with the white bandage tightly wrapped over a stitched scar stretching from the bottom of the thumb to the little finger. Lightweight clothes had been placed on to hide the turquoise, beetroot and lavender bruises creating a sickly dot-to-dot across the chest, stomach and leg area. Bandages slunk across the shoulder and arm too, patches dampened with faded red, whitening the skin further until it almost appeared bloodless. Charcoal locks sprawled over the light yellow goose-feather pillow like a spider, the hair once knotted and mangled now freshly washed and smelling of sweet Asgardian ointments. Standing out boldly around the forehead, bandages helped the wound across the back of the head heal without infection, a lotion rubbed into the skin. 

Almost unnoticeable apart from the light kissing of the door meeting the floor, a figure stepped into the little room, soft indoor shoes muffling his heavy weight. Fair hair hung forgotten around his downcast face, once excited, boyish eyes now filled to the brim with despair and self-loathing, a whole new confusing emotion for the future king of Asgard. Swallowing, he creeps over to the bed until he’s leaning over the younger, a hand reached out to stroke the damp air, feeling the still cool temperature of his skin. Sighing silently, he perches on the edge of the bed, back to the roaring fire that creates the only noise. The feeling of an object stretching his pocket against his thigh draws him out of his almost trance-like state, bringing his attention to the small smoothed wood trinket hidden away inside his pocket, his hand reaching in to grab it. It’s only a small thing, barely the size of his palm, a child’s toy really, but Thor can’t help feel disgusted. Carved into the wood like taunting reminder of his actions, the creature rises onto its hind feet, roaring out into the night like a gigantic wolf, eyes ablaze with fury, ravenous and an animalistic wildness.

Standing, he crosses from the bed to the fire, watching the gold and crimson waltz, tango and jive together. Tightening his fist around the trinket a tsunami whips through his veins, raw, dangerous rage storming over him. In one quick, sudden movement, causing his shadow to jerk violently, he flings the animal into the fire, pain-filled electric-blue eyes watching intently as the wood shrieked in the heat, burning away until it became nothing more than a flimsy pile of dirty-grey ash. Slipping from him as easily as it came, all the pent up anger drains away, leaving him feeling exhausted as he leans forward to lean on the fireplace. A sigh escapes his lips, tears prickling under his now closed eyelids.  
Groaning, however, drags his eyes back to the bed, the tiny person lying under all the pelts struggling weakly to turn over, beats of sweat clearly visible even from where he stood. Not wasting a second, Thor was by his baby brother’s side, a hand soothingly running over Loki’s cheek, calming his movements until he began to relax more into his touch. Whispering quiet words, Thor laid down beside him, using his other hand to gently, carefully, pull his brother into his chest before beginning to pet his hair. Sparks of memories from their childhood flitter though his mind, of stormy nights when Loki, afraid, would come tiptoeing to his bedroom, of times when they both came down with flu and of times they had long since outgrown. A small smile tugged at his lips as Loki drifted back off to sleep; his lips no longer blue and face no longer holding pain. 

Morning trickled its way in quietly, and soon the call of sleep could not be held off any more, Thor dozing off beside his brother. Sun’s rays stroked every surface, replacing the dying fires light with a much brighter, calmer glow. Papers hastily scribbled on with black ink could now been seen beside the bottles, blobs of the dark liquid splattered over the corner of one page. Half-open books and volumes with pages marked also rested over the face of the desk, a variety of flowers, grasses and herbs bunched together with pieces of light brown string. Pinned on the wall before the window a wind chime hangs, the closed pane meaning the soft swam feathers and silver engraved bells could not pick up the gentle breeze wafting through Asgard, song birds melody’s playing in the wind.  
Humming as his bones fought against him, the younger stirred, emerald orbs fluttering open behind long eyelashes, a yawn filling the air. Swallowing, Loki blinked at the world around him, his brain tiredly trying to wake himself up. Fingers skimming over the material of the bed, he frowned, glancing up straight into the face of his peacefully sleeping brother. Pure, joyous relief sweeps over, bliss taking over him. He is home, safe, with no bugs, no mud and no creatures trying to eat him. Gazing over to the still wind chime, he smiled to himself before closing his eyes and relaxing back into Thor’s giant arms. 

Days began to pass, Loki gaining strength with each passing moment. Although the wounds still pained him, making it hard to move, he was determined not to rely on the servants for help, desperately wanting nothing more than to escape the stuffy room. Broths, soups and bread were his diet for the following weeks, the cooks given strict instructions to give him nutritional meals to help him recover while both his mother and Thor showered him in suffocating love, Frigga fretting over him while Thor didn’t even want him to sit up. It was only when Frigga had to help the Allfather and Thor had a social party to attend did he finally get some peace. 

Sneaking his way down the empty corridors and using the thick, brick wall as a support, Loki snuck away from his room, trying to make his way to the library. Books were something he’d greatly missed over the past few days, his research now far behind schedule, along with all his notes. Sighing in frustration at his own slowness, Loki checked around a corner, spying an open door right in his way. Gritting his teeth, he cautiously made his way over, peering inside but hidden in the darkness.  
“Of course, I had a plan.” His brother, by the sounds of it, must be another drinking session; Thor had been holding a few of those recently.  
“Don’t you always?” A voice unrecognisable to Loki, but he could just make out the man’s impressive moustache curling over his cheeks from  
where he stood.  
“I grabbed it by the neck, locking it in a hold to give Loki time to move,” Thor stood on his chair, demonstrating wildly with his arms, a half-empty mug of mead before him on the table, “Like this, it kicked at me like crazy, but I held on. However just as I was about to stab it with my knife,” He made a violent stabbing motion downwards, “It rolled over, knocking me to the floor before charging at Loki who’d made it to the dam, You should have seen it beside him, it was huge! Like…This big!” Widening his arms he grinned at his captivated guests. “I tried to get there to help my poor brother, he has never been much of a fighter, but by the time I got there the dam had broken in two and Loki and the beast had fallen into the waterfall. I didn’t care though; I dived straight in after them, slaughtering the beast there on the spot while it was still confused before grabbing Loki and dragging him out of the rapids. Looking back now I suppose I should have been more careful, the rocks were sharp after all, some with inch long sharpened sides! But at the time I just pulled Loki onto my back, he’d been knocked unconscious, and made my way back here!”  
Everyone watched in amazement, Thor wielding the elaborate story like a magician, the story getting wilder, crazier by the second. Loki had come down with pneumonia halfway back meaning they had to stop overnight, but not before tackling a bear and hunting several giant stags from the nearest herd of deer.  
At the end of the tale, with an exhausted Thor still carrying Loki collapsing on the steps of Asgard, everyone was on the edge of their seats, listening to how he woke up days later with only a cold while Loki suffered terrible fevers, flu and nausea. One woman commented that she was glad Thor was going to be on the throne, her eyelashes fluttering like crazy before ruby orbs. Beside her a man laughed, stating Thor would be better than Loki as he would, “At least be conscious for battle!” Everybody giggled; glugging down more alcohol and cracking jokes about the story, mainly at the younger prince’s expense. Thor, heavily drunk now, merrily joined in, laughing harshly at one particular joke.  
Slipping away just as silently as he had arrived, Loki clutched the blanket draped over his shoulders in shaking hands, disappearing back into the darkness of the corridor to the sound of laughter, disappointment, confusion and despair heavy in his heart.  
End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it would be better to link this into the film, so sorry this is not the fluffy ending probably expected!
> 
> Sorry for any spelling errors.
> 
> I don’t own ‘Thor’
> 
> Sukuangtou

**Author's Note:**

> To answer a question I know I’m going to get (why didn’t Loki use his magic?) this is set when he’s growing up, about mid-teens or just slightly younger. He hasn’t developed his magic as much as he has in ‘Thor’ meaning he isn’t as confident using it. 
> 
> Sorry for any spelling errors.
> 
> I don’t own ‘Thor’
> 
> Sukuangtou


End file.
